All the excuses she had used over the last several days were too weak to stand on their own legs. She barely knew him, yet her soul knew his. She did not think it mattered, but no one mattered more, no lie mattered more, than he did. It wouldn’t be right to tell him the truth while the Carlburys believed a lie, yet she had known they would not support her falsehood in any way long before they set foot upon the island. If rescue came, she and Alejandro would go their separate ways. Except in her heart her path had melted away and become his.
He waited for her answer, watched her eyes as she thought through what words to give him. Nothing would soothe the hurt in his eyes.
“I am sorry,” she whispered. “I did not understand what it would mean to keep this from you.”
“Hope.” Her name on his lips spoken without warmth but ample astonishment did not warm her heart. “That is why you said you must hope all your life.”
“You said hope was dead on this island,” she answered softly.
He grasped his mother’s ring hanging on the chain around his neck, holding it tightly in his fist.
“Esperanza,” Hope said the word aloud. The word for hope, his mother’s name, and as she said it his eyes flashed with an emotion she could not name. Then he was gone, walking away at a fast clip to the side of the island not yet on fire, his steps in the sand disappearing amid the lapping waves.
So much water, yet no way to use it to quench the fire. The cruelty of that observation nearly made her angry again.
“Miss Everly.” The doctor. Of course. They had been standing there the whole time, watching the uncomfortable exchange and each excruciating detail likely causing greater speculation on their part. “I think it best you come with us. We cannot sit near the trees, but we should move closer to the surf, and take some food. The stress of the day cannot be good for any of us.”
Mrs. Morgan’s arm went around Hope’s shoulders. Hope looked into the woman’s friendly, compassionate expression. “Come with me, dear. Tell me your story.”
Wearily, Hope nodded and followed the woman to the outcropping of rocks where she and Irene had washed their clothing. It was a safe distance from the trees. The trees she could not bring herself to turn toward, to see them engulfed in flames, to see how far the fire had spread, and watch as all hope of surviving vanished because of one foolish man’s vanity.
22
The day of the fire, thunder had rumbled for some time before the storm clouds appeared. Two hours passed with the fire licking away at the trees, only slowing at damp patches and when the wind pushed it away from the greenery. After the rain, Alejandro, Hitchens, Madden, Smith, the doctor, and Thorne scouted the edges of the charred and smoldering remains of trees and vegetation.
Their discovery had been grim. The doctor delivered the news to those who waited on the edge of the beach. Bedraggled, soaked through from the rain and waves, no one had said another word for a long time.
Here, two days later, Alejandro braved the ash and embers to walk further into the trees. He tested each spot on the ground carefully, his bare feet warning him when patches of ground were too hot for him. He found small creatures that had succumbed to smoke or been too injured by fire to flee. His stomach rolled, but he forced away the sick feeling. What little food he’d managed to eat had to stay put. The rations would not last long.
He came out of the trees to the shelter, where everyone sat doing nothing. Everyone except Hope.
How strange, to know her name at last. It made sense now, why she would not allow him to call her by her Christian name. She had not wanted the man falling in love with her to write the wrong name within his heart. At least, that’s what Alejandro told himself.
He and Hope had barely spoken past what was necessary. She remained silent. Kept her head down. The truth ought to have set her free, but it appeared to be a greater burden if the slope of her shoulders and the deep purple crescents beneath her eyes told him anything.
Alejandro did not ask if anyone knew where she had gone. He walked around the rocks and up to the top of the island. The rocks here formed the back of the shelter, and stretched upward, stacked upon one another, as though attempting to reach the sky. Wedged deeply in those rocks was the broken mast he had pulled ashore, along with the sail, and Hope.
She sat on a rock at the same level as his head. Arms wrapped around her legs and chin resting on her knees, Hope’s eyelashes did not even flicker when he climbed up beside her.
He had seen her keeping vigil the day before.
For a long time, he said nothing. He sat beside her, watching her from the corner of his eye though he pretended to watch the horizon. She hadn’t eaten very much. He had watched her return part of her portion of dried berries, nuts, and roots back into the baskets each day. Her cheeks already appeared less full than before, and they had hardly been round when he first met her. Beneath the tan, there was little color to her skin.
Alejandro’s thoughts turned dark too quickly. He needed to distract himself. Distract her. The specter of death hung over the island, but that did not mean they had to let it have power over their hearts.
“The first thing I want to do when we are rescued,” Alejandro said abruptly, “is eat fresh-baked bread. I have missed it.”
She let out a sigh and turned her head, laying her cheek on her knee in order to stare up at him. “The first thing? Perhaps you ought to consider a haircut as the second.” Her gaze flicked from his face to his shoulders, then his beard. He still had no shirt. He had removed it the day of the fire while fishing, and when he’d gone back to that side of the island had seen no trace of it.
“What of the beard?” he asked, pleased to at least have her speaking of something frivolous. He stroked the long whiskers, thick and almost curling, growing from his cheeks and chin. “Are you fond of it?”
Her eyes warmed somewhat, but she blinked and the worry returned. “I am fond of the man beneath the beard, though he may no longer be fond of me.”
Alejandro grimaced and mimicked the way she sat, pulling his knees up close to his chest and wrapping his arms loosely around them. “I am fond of you, Hope. More than fond.” He whispered the last sentence, giving her the opportunity to speak of it or ignore it.
Tears shimmered in her eyes, and she wiped them away with the back of her hand. “You do not even know me. You know who I was pretending to be.”
The nonsense of her words nearly made him laugh. He tempered his response to no more than a smile. “You think I know your sister Grace? I have never met her. I know nothing of her but what others have said. I have come to know you, Hope. And admire your strength. Your courage.”
She scoffed and turned away. The bun she wore was loose enough that a great deal of her hair had already come free, laying limply down her back in straggling waves.
“It is true,” he said quietly. “No one can pretend the things I have seen in you. Patience and compassion for your friend, though she sorely tried the rest of us. Kindness and understanding to Mrs. Morgan in her delicate condition.” Hope turned at that and raised her eyebrows at him. “I have eyes,” he said, leaning toward her enough to nudge her shoulder with his.
“You are not supposed to notice a woman’s condition.” Her lips twitched upward. “It is not polite.”
“When have you known me to worry overly much about what is polite?” he asked, allowing himself to smirk before turning back to the matter at hand. “I have admired your courage from the beginning. That is something you cannot pretend belongs to your sister.”
Hope considered him carefully, a thousand thoughts behind her eyes, the depths of which he could only guess at. “Grace is courageous, in her own way. A quiet way.”
Chuckling, he nudged her again, relishing the momentary connection between them. He had missed her. “You are not quiet, Hope. You never have been.”
The observation made her grimace. “Then how did they not know?” she asked plaintively. “How did Irene not guess—?”
�
��She is not as good a friend as you are.” He had seen that truth time and again. Irene enjoyed possessing a friend, not being one herself. The woman was no more than a spoiled child, thinking always of her own comfort and wants, never anyone else’s needs.
Hope’s eyebrows furrowed and her frown returned, deeper this time. “Are you angry that I deceived you?” she asked. “I do not blame you if you are.”
“I did not understand it. But anger—it is too strong a word. As I said. I never knew Grace. Only you. What does it matter what name you used? I believe it was one of your Englishmen who said something about a rose, by any other name, smelling as sweet.”
Her cheeks pinked, giving him a blissful moment of triumph. Her heart had not closed to him. She had not pretended her feelings. He knew, but it was good to see that indicated by something she could not hide.
“Thank you,” she said quietly. “But if that is truly how you feel, why have you avoided me?”
A large bird flew overhead, coming in from the sea. It circled the two of them, then went toward the trees, only to veer away before landing. He had seen this happen enough times to despair over it. The animals would not return to the island, those that had the power to, until the stench of smoke and death had faded away. That was another source of nourishment gone.
“I needed to think.” Alejandro closed his eyes, as much to gather his courage as his words. “You and I, we have something between us. Something I have not felt before. With anyone.” She did not deny it, and when he opened his eyes again to look at her, he saw the slightest of smiles upon her lovely face. His heart dipped painfully. “But it cannot be, as much as I wish it could.”
She blanched. “What?”
“What we feel, even if we ever leave this island, nothing can come of it.” Alejandro swallowed away the tightness in his throat, watching the joy fade from her eyes. “I do not know if anything or anyone even waits for me out in the world. My parents may be dead. My country may yet fall to Spain’s rule. Our holdings could be gone. I must find a way to journey back home and discover all that has passed while I have been away. I cannot think of myself, and I cannot think of you.”
Hope’s eyes had stayed wide, full of pain, but she did not cry out. She did not rail against him. “You said before,” she whispered. “You said you wished to know me better. You practically asked to court me.”
“I was dreaming,” he admitted, his heart splitting slowly in two. “You will go home to England. We know you must. The Carlbury family, they no longer welcome you. I cannot go across an ocean to be with you. Not when my duty is to my country, my family.”
Finally, she wiped at her eyes with the heel of her hand. “It is not because I lied?” Though a petite woman, Hope had never looked or sounded smaller than she did in that moment. Alejandro could not allow her to remain uncomforted. He moved closer, wrapping one arm around her shoulders and pressing a kiss to her temple.
“No, mi hermosa. You kept your name from me, but never your heart.” She leaned into his chest, despite his lack of proper attire, and he had to smile at her boldness. If only he could keep her forever at his side. “It is because I must go, because I am not free.”
“Won’t you be? Someday?” she asked quietly.
“Free enough to cross an ocean?” He sighed deeply and tugged at his hair with one hand, then pushed it all back from his face. “I do not know. But even if I could—Hope, my country is not stable. It may be a very long time before it is safe, before I know what my future holds. I cannot ask a woman, any woman, to join me in that way. To be part of a life filled with war.”
She did not move from her place, the warmth of her cheek on his skin made each word harder to speak. He had promised himself to do this, to tell her the truth of all matters.
“My whole life has been lived during war,” she told him. “Napoleon—he took friends from me, from everyone I know.”
“And you have said the war with the French is over. You will never need live that way again.” He said it firmly, leaving no room for argument. “I will not keep your heart captive, waiting for a day that may never come.”
For a long time, she said nothing. Hope did not shrink from him, or plead, or anything. Though he felt her swallow several times, as though trying to keep back words or tears. Finally, she nodded against him.
“I wish I could come with you.” She spoke as though they were already off the island, already on their way back into the world. They could yet be on the island together for many years. If they survived that long. He did not point that out to her.
“But your duty is to your family.” Alejandro gave her one more gentle squeeze before guiding her back from him. “Hope. Mi esperanza. Will you take this?” He touched the ring on the chain. The one thing he had kept to remind himself, every day, of who he was and that someone in the world thought of him. Perhaps it would give her a measure of comfort, as it had him. “Please?”
Hope immediately leaned away from him, her eyes widening in shock. “It is yours. Your mother’s.”
He pulled the chain over his head, then dropped it over hers, despite her protest. “And now it is yours. I think it fitting. From Esperanza to Hope. Women I will always keep with me in my heart.”
She touched the ring and her smile, though faint, reappeared. “I am honored. Thank you, Alejandro.”
“Thank you, Hope Everly. You brought back my faith in rescue. My hope.” He forced a smile, but his composure began to slip. Pain flowed from his broken heart through the rest of him, making his soul ache. He needed to leave. Take a long walk. Perhaps douse himself in the ocean or walk on hot coals. Whichever sensation distracted him from the gaping wound in his chest.
“Thank you for keeping me safe.” She did not make eye contact, she kept her gaze on the ring in her palm. “And for everything else.”
Alejandro slid down the rock, murmuring his farewell. They might be dead of starvation in a few weeks. Or disease. Or injury. He might bury her in the sand, or she mourn his loss. There was no telling what would happen next. But they had said their goodbyes.
He had not gone far at all when he heard a plaintive sob break from her, but he did not turn around. It was best this way.
Best to do the honorable thing.
23
Everything tasted like ash.
Tears spent, Hope tried to get down more of the dried berries. Her stomach clenched and tried to reject the food but she determinedly swallowed again. Mrs. Morgan had a worse time of things. She had barely eaten anything and the doctor could no longer find the herbs to make her tea. He had boiled what they had left into a sort of broth that was gone already.
Though they had not been in the best of circumstances before, there had been no chance of them starving to death. Now, however, they couldn’t get through a day without hunger pains.
The men had dug another well. The first had been contaminated with floating ash and the small animals trying to flee the fire. The new well still had bits of ash drift into it when the wind was strong enough.
At least they had the water.
Irene sniffled loudly enough that Hope dared look at her friend. Were they still friends? She had stayed away for days, waiting for the anger the Carlburys exhibited toward her to die down. They were the only people who still held her falsehood against her. Albert glared every time their gazes met and Irene turned away with her nose in the air.
How had she ever been friends with someone who behaved in such a way? Why had she never noticed before how snobbish Irene acted? She took up the rest of her meager rations and carried them across the little clearing to Irene. “Would you like my food?” she asked, though her mostly empty stomach did not thank her for it. “I do not need so much. I am the smallest one here.”
Irene looked from the meager offering of berries and edible leaves in Hope’s hand back to the ground. “I have sufficient for my needs, thank you.”
Hope withdrew the food and went to offer it next to Mrs. Morgan.
“
Pretending to be generous and noble now does not negate your prior behavior,” Albert snarled from the other side of his sister. Hope had tried to ignore him. Apparently, he could not stand to lose the opportunity to deride her.
The others around the fire, eating their meager breakfast, stilled. Perhaps they all thought as she did. Albert had destroyed their ability to survive. His hypocrisy added yet another facet to his character that made her grateful she had never once considered him a possible suitor.
Grace would tell Hope to bite her tongue. To pretend she had not heard. To make peace.
Hope was not Grace, and she was tired. Hungry. Impatient. And hurting. She turned on her heel, glaring down at the man on the ground. “My prior behavior? Whatever do you mean, Mr. Carlbury? Could you mean all the times I soothed your sister’s fears and nerves while you went sneaking about the island to build a bonfire? Or perhaps you mean my efforts to gather food and water, while you disappeared nearly every chance you could when the rest of the group was at work? Are those the reprehensible deeds you charge me with?” She tossed her head and scoffed at him. “However will I make restitution?”
Albert sprang to his feet. “At least I attempted something to save us from living like savages,” he snarled. “Better to die with some semblance of decorum than live no better than animals.”
Standing her ground with fists balled up, Hope barely registered Mr. Thorne and Alejandro coming slowly to their feet. Her focus was on the man before her. “You are not the man to decide if we live or die.”
Perhaps something inside Albert broke. He threw his head back and laughed. “Of course you would not mind a life outside of society’s bounds. We all saw that well enough as soon as you started throwing yourself at that—” he thrust a finger in Alejandro’s direction “—lout. Your pretended virtue does not erase your wanton—”
Saving Miss Everly: A Regency Romance (Inglewood Book 3) Page 21
